


Do you know?

by deviltakehimback



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviltakehimback/pseuds/deviltakehimback
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Serena's side of the story, from Bernie's arrival at Holby to 'Brave New World' - and a little beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Of course she had heard about Berenice Wolfe.

From the whispers skirting through the halls, and the muffled conversations of almost the entire staff, Serena had definitely heard about her. And from how they talked about her, Serena imagined a brusk, broad-shouldered brunette with a chip on her shoulder and a bark of a voice. She also imagined her in uniform, despite knowing for a fact that she'd have been in patient garments for the duration of her first stay at Holby.

Which is why she didn't instantly recognise the trauma surgeon on their first official meeting. She'd obviously heard that they'd filled the vacancy, but her mental image of Dr. Wolfe had some catching up to do.

First of all, she thought she'd be taller. She wasn't expecting her demeanour to be anything like it was, and she certainly wasn't expecting her mind to jump for words like "playful", "mischievous" and "enigmatic".

She also hadn't expected a smoker. She never did, with doctors, but she supposed the only ones you'd be dead certain about were the pulmonary specialists. They spent so much time bemoaning everyone else's smoking habits that they would probably combust on the spot if handed so much as a pouch of tobacco.

She supposed she shouldn't be one bit surprised. She'd been in the game long enough to treat countless injuries caused by alcohol-induced idiocy, not to mention the liver-failure, and yet she still looked forward to a glass of wine at the end of the night. Still, there were all those articles claiming that the mediterranean lifestyle was better for the health, wine included. The same couldn't be said for cigarettes.

As Dr. Wolfe walked (sauntered, really) towards her, she hadn't recognised her. She was much too busy with her rotten car, of all the days to pack it in.

Serena noticed the utter uselessness of the information pouring towards her from the other woman's lips, which quirked in a pleasant smirk and invited Serena to continue their talk.

She had magnificent, blonde hair and despite being unkempt, it seemed as though it would be marvellously soft to the touch. She'd later describe it as terribly unruly, absently reminiscing on an evening spent with Jason.

Serena would remember few clear details of this first exchange with Dr. Wolfe, aside from saying smoking is a bit pants and advocating for her own vice in its stead, hinting that Dr. Wolfe should try it her way.

Thinking back on it, she felt like she might have managed to make that sound like a come-on.

Her reputation for getting into people's heads preceding her, this must indeed be Berenice Wolfe.

 

\- - -

 

Bernie, as she'd come to know her, was full of surprises. She was also, quite often, full of shit.

Serena was fed up with liars, and couldn't for the life of her understand why she was putting up with yet another one.

She hated that she couldn't manage to stay angry at her for any period of time. It was infuriating.

She did seem to be doing her best to keep everything going, and the secrets she kept were usually well-intentioned from what Serena could gather.

She really did not appreciate being pulled into her web, though, and lying to the police should never have been on Serena's agenda. She couldn't do that to Bernie, though.

She of all people knew how a divorce could rip a family apart, and she knew how Bernie must have been scrambling to keep herself together.

If it had been Elinor, she'd have been furious, but she would have walked through fire to defend her. And then give her a good talking to, as only someone driven by love can get away with.

 

\- - -

 

Serena Campbell wasn't an idiot. Far from it, actually, with an impressive academic record and an even better one in theatre. But she did wonder sometimes if there was any way to get better at, well, people.

It's always difficult to keep a handle on friendships when your working day is as long as a piece of string. She hadn't even realised how much she'd been struggling when Arthur was... before Arthur was gone. And now, there was a big Dr. Digby-shaped hole in the Holby community and nobody could shake the feeling of loss.

She felt for Morven. It's one thing to lose the person you love because you've grown apart and need a break before you both lose your minds; it's another beast entirely to have them torn from you before you've even gotten started.

And they'd both seemed like they were in it for the long haul.

Serena shuddered at the thought, feeling as though someone had walked over the grave of her broken marriage. She dove into her work, fighting back the sting that pricked at her eyes.

 

\- - -

 

Bernie Wolfe had cheated on her husband of twenty-something years. With a woman. Bernie had turned a ghostly shade of green when that secret got out of the bag. Serena was oddly glad to have been there for it; she didn't know when she'd have heard it straight from the horse's mouth. She couldn't imagine the pain of being outed like that, to everyone at once, however hurt she was by Bernie's dishonesty.

She, at least, was there as Bernie's friend, and she hoped it was clear that she'd have her back no matter what. If anyone tried anything to use her sexual orientation against her, they'd have one very angry Serena Campbell to deal with.

Alex had been a visiting anaesthetist at Holby not too long ago, if memory served correctly. Serena had seen the name on some bit of paperwork or another. They surely hadn't done anything untoward under the Holby roof? Serena would fume if she found out they had. Best to leave all of that at home, and not be inviting trouble in the hospital. God knows they didn't need any more of it.

Serena would fume, but something told her it wasn't just care for the hospital that invited her anger.

Jealousy was a fool's game, and she wanted no hand in it.

 

\- - -

 

Bernie Wolfe had kissed her.

Fletch was in a hospital bed, all tubed up and in intensive care, and she was spent.

And Bernie Wolfe had kissed her.

She clung to Bernie for dear life, and felt the years pass behind her eyelids. Years of boredom with Edward, the thrill she'd felt with Robbie until he'd shown just how incapable he was of dealing with Jason. The senior lecturer at Harvard who'd stroll into class every week in two-inch heels and click across the floor, who Serena had very much admired. She thought of the fire in her belly every time she stepped into theatre and, more recently, when she stepped into a room with Bernie.

Bernie Wolfe, who had kissed her, left her breathless, and bolted from her as soon as her pager beeped her back to her senses, off to treat a family of five who'd been involved in a two-car collision at a sharp bend.

Serena stayed put, not sure how long she'd spent on the floor of the operating room, eventually pulling herself together and dragging herself into a standing position. She felt utterly shell-shocked.

That was not what she had expected from Bernie Wolfe.

 

\- - -

 

Serena Campbell was an idiot. A bumbling, stuttering idiot. She'd never even been to Stepney.

Of course, she didn't miss the irony of having lied to Bernie, making any residual self-righteousness over Bernie's dishonesty completely out of order. She couldn't believe the extent to which her hypocrisy could stretch.

She and Bernie had avoided each other since they'd kissed, and hadn't so much as spoken a word to each other that wasn't sent via messenger-nurse until they'd been in the lift.

The lift. Oh god she'd made such a fool of herself in the lift. She'd felt herself talking and couldn't stop. She heard the tone lingering in Bernie's voice, low and cautious, sounding like warm honey. She couldn't get out of there fast enough.

She knew all about the rumour mill. It had cracked her open, pulled her through, and spat her out in pieces. She cursed Edward, and cursed herself for good measure.

A good talk with an unconscious Fletch cleared and muddied her mind in equal measure. She couldn't face the talk, the stares, should they find out that she had a thing for the trauma surgeon. The female trauma surgeon. The strong, macho army medic with eyes that could bend and shape her where she stood...

She couldn't handle the thought of what they'd do with all that. The things they’d call her. She'd be ruined.

Had Bernie any idea the effect she had on her? In one day she'd managed to fall over her words every single time she opened her mouth. She resented it.

Bernie was playing all coy and nervous and it was driving Serena positively up the wall. Not to mention the tight black jeans she'd been wearing, which Serena thought should frankly be illegal. Her hair looked annoyingly perfect and, from their theatre-floor antics, Serena already knew just how soft it was.

After slinking into her - their - office and away from Bernie, she found herself staring blankly into the air.

She thought of how she'd enjoyed their closeness, as friends or otherwise. The noticeable, physical distance between them over the past few days had been unbearable.

 

\- - -

She had been very much looking forward to getting back to the swing of things, assisting Bernie with her surgery. It felt like they'd moved on from the awkwardness, and stepped back into a rhythm with one another.

She'd asked her to share a drink, and hadn't been rejected. She felt rather ecstatic as she made arrangements in the office. No point heading to a bustling Albie's. This was a bit more appropriate for the atmosphere she wanted to create.

She took a minute to collect herself. She usually tried to avoid day-dreaming on the job, but she'd been getting steadily worse at that and. She found her mind wandering again.

She wondered what it would be like to finally give in to her desire for Bernie. What it might feel like, how she'd react, if Serena were to grab her by the collar of her that shirt and end their awkward silence with another kiss to rival their first. How she'd undo those shirt buttons, with care, dragging the backs of her hands down along Bernie's chest as she went. Trailing her fingers along skin as she pushed the fabric away from Bernie's shoulders, dropping it to the floor and focusing, finally, on peppering kisses along Bernie's clavicle.

She shook herself, knocking herself out of such outlandish ideals, and set to tidying her desk. What if Bernie had changed her mind? What if everything had happened because they’d just been highly strung, emotional and in need of release? What if that was that?

She'd always kept wine glasses in the bottom drawer of one of the filing cabinets. In case of emergency. You never know when you'll need a drop of red. Of course, she'd never indulge if it wasn't the end of the working day.

She pulled one of the guest chairs closer to her desk, anticipating Bernie's arrival to their shared refuge.

 

\- - -

 

Bernie stepped into their office with light feet, and closed the door behind her at Serena's request. Accepting Serena's offer of wine, she planted herself gingerly on the guest chair.

Serena listened in abject horror as Bernie politely, honorably put a halt to any developments to their relationship, and found herself agreeing to "confine it to theatre" with a clink of her glass. Whatever that meant. She didn't want to confine it to theatre. She didn't want to confine it at all.

She was so flustered; she kept saying ridiculous things and going along with what Bernie was saying. Perhaps she'd been too late. Bernie was resolute in shutting down any inappropriate, inter-staff relations. Just as she'd wished. The AAU must remain a sex-free zone. How nobody had noticed how sarcastic she’d been when she’d mentioned that, she did not know. Perhaps she’d gotten so good at deadpan that everyone just believed her now.

It was actually a very responsible thing for Bernie to do. Serena was at a complete loss for words.

Bernie stood up and made her way around to her side of their joint workspace, building an invisible wall between them as the awkward silence between them returned.

Serena's heart fluttered, hammered, and abruptly shattered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of awkward; Serena unbreaks.

Serena ran from the office as soon as she finished her glass of wine. The rest of the bottle sloshed against the re-inserted cork, the whole thing bouncing in her handbag as she hurled herself into a cab. Never mind the wine; she didn’t trust herself to drive with the threat of tears biting at her.

Once home, the kitchen table offered her little solace, as she slowly slotted the pieces of herself back together.

Jason had asked what was wrong, because it looked like she’d been crying and she usually only cries when something bad has happened. She managed to fob him off, saying she was upset that Fletcher was still in a hospital bed, that his kids would be missing him. He’d asked if that was because he wouldn’t be there to feed them and Serena cracked a smile in spite of herself, explaining that Raf would look after them. Considering Jason’s potential response, she also took it upon herself to explain that both men in question were happily heterosexual and they simply lived together.

Not that he would care, but she supposed he might mention it down the line.

She’d gotten to the point where she could ask Jason for a hug, and so she did. The contact, the tightness, shot through her and she was filled with what she recognised as maternal affection. She loved Jason, and was endlessly grateful for his presence, whether he knew it or not. She didn’t want to be alone in the house, couldn’t handle it.

Before she could lose the run of herself, he told her he’d like to stop hugging and have a sandwich, and so she released him to his evening snack. She watched as he crafted it, rummaging in the fridge for what he needed and being so careful with the butter-knife. He scoffed it down, deposited his plate in the almost-full dishwasher, and turned to face Serena once more.

“Good night Auntie Serena,” he said, heading for the stairs and turning back to her. “Will you be going to bed soon? You look very tired.”

Serena nodded, appeasing him, and watched as he retreated to his room. She didn’t know how she’d ended up with Jason in her life, but she wouldn't trade him for anything.

Sometimes the best things in life are the surprises.

 

\- - -

 

Work quickly became torturous. Avoiding each other on the wards and subconsciously splitting their time in the office, they spent little time in one another’s company. And yet, as soon as they walked into the surgical theatre, they were unstoppable.

The masks, scrub caps and gowns shielded them from each other, and yet they opened themselves. Serena felt as though she were dreaming. She couldn’t form a sentence properly these days, unless she was operating on an anaesthetised patient – with Bernie Wolfe at her side. Bernie’s eyes would brighten exactly when she expected them to now, giving a wordless challenge or silent hint of encouragement. She couldn’t be the only one of them feeling it, and she couldn’t keep quiet about it for much longer.

She did, however, suffer through three full days of being tongue-tied and absent-minded before she settled on a course of action. She was a grown woman, and she felt she’d best start acting like it.

Berenice Wolfe's words would not break her, and they certainly wouldn’t confine her to anything.

 

\- - -

 

On Friday morning, she arrived early and took up her place in the office, under the guise of getting an early start to the paperwork piling up in front of her.

She paid it no attention, shaking with nerves as she waited, twisting her chair back and forth.

Five minutes before her shift was due to start, Bernie quietly entered the office with two cups of steaming coffee. She set one down on Serena’s desk, a devilish quirk playing at her upper lip, sitting down on her own side of the divide.

Serena wanted desperately to kiss her again, take her by the hand, pull her close and hang on for dear life. That might be a bit of a strong start.

“I think we need to talk,” she croaked, voice failing her as she caught her colleague’s attention. She'd had enough of being towed along a path she didn't want to be on. Bernie sat up straight in the matching swivel chair across the desk, eyebrows raised but not saying a word. Serena cleared her throat.

"You kissed me because you wanted to, yes?"

Bernie nodded in response, pulling herself towards the desk with her hands, but made no move to speak.

"I think you are well aware that I reciprocated... Reciprocate. That I continue to reciprocate." Serena’s hands waved uselessly in front of her. She took a deep breath to steady herself. Her eyes locked on Bernie's, and she refused to shy away from it any longer. The past days had been excruciating, ignoring each other on the ward and feeling sparks fly between them in surgery.

"If we were to keep it to theatre... I suspect I'd go quite mad. I'm not running away, Bernie.” She faltered, searching Bernie’s features for a response and finding stone. “Like I said, I've never been... intimate with a woman before. Do not take that as a sign that I am not interested."

At last, Serena thought she spied some movement in Bernie’s face, as she worked out the double negative in her head.

"So... you _are_ interested?" The sheer disbelief in her voice almost made Serena laugh. Have a little faith.

"No, I've been sleeping with Ric Griffin since Robbie and I broke it off,” she said, casually sipping her coffee, before continuing, “and we're happily engaged."

Startled, Bernie took refuge in her own drink, almost burning her tongue in her haste to flee from eye-contact.

"Of course I'm interested, you fool," Serena added, before Bernie's face could turn totally inside-out, and before she could do any more damage with the hot beverage pressed to her lips. Serena scolded herself for being jealous of the rim of a coffee cup.

“Right. Okay, great.” Bernie's eyes were wide in disbelief, her hands still clasped around the cup. Serena reckoned she couldn't have been more beautiful if she tried.

She was amused at the sheer verbosity of Bernie’s response, but she'd take what she could get. Settling back in her chair, her heart began to slow to a reasonable rate.

“Considering we are both... interested... might I suggest an evening together? We both finish at seven today, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Serena, I completely agree and fully accept your invitation. It’s a date,” she said, the words almost lost in a deep sigh. There it was. The playful glimmer in Bernie’s eyes, the one Serena had been relishing in theatre, back in full force.

“Got anywhere in mind?” Bernie’s gaze met hers and it took her a few seconds to catch up with the question. Shit. She probably should have thought that one through.

“You’ll see,” she said, smirking, while internally berating herself for talking before having any sort of plan ready.

How does one go about effectively wooing Berenice Wolfe?

 

\- - -

 

Their pagers dragged them back to reality, sending them in opposite directions and leaving Serena to stew in a mild panic for the rest of the day. She was grateful for the release, thinking she’d probably have forgone all preamble and pushed Bernie up against a wall if they’d been in there for any longer.

She discounted the office wine as a pre-date, and very much thought their first real date would require significantly more planning. For a start, it needed to not be in the hospital. The wine would have to be better. And Albie’s was absolutely out of the question.

While checking the dilation of a patient’s pupils, she realised that her best course of action wasn’t going to be anything like dinner and a trip to the theatre, though that may prove useful down the line.

The first step would be to know what they both enjoyed, and then working to amplify it. What did Bernie like? Serena grudgingly admitted to herself that she couldn’t answer that question yet. The odd whiskey, or a glass of wine, certainly. She was well capable of following Jason’s tirades about World’s Strongest Man, but that wasn’t a lead.

Of the little that she knew, she was content in the knowledge that Berenice Wolfe was a shameless flirt.

Not much to build an evening on, but she had a few ideas. She was sure the rest would follow. Serena bit the inside of her cheeks to root herself back in the present, finishing her examination and informing the nearest Nurse – Karen? Kaylee? – of the next course of action for the patient.

 

\- - -

 

Over the course of the day, they exchanged nervous touches and parting glances whenever they crossed one another’s path. Serena wouldn’t call it a busy day, but it was by no means a walk in the park. She’d almost lost two patients, and she’d heard tell that one of Bernie’s suffered cardiac arrest as she was checking his heart. A rough day at the office, pressure filled her and she wondered how Bernie's back was holding up. 

\- - -

 

By six-thirty, Serena had mostly fulfilled her duties, and was signing off the last few bits and pieces for the day.

Fifteen minutes later, Bernie popped her head in to she was off to change out of her scrubs, and she’d be back by seven. Serena stopped herself from offering a hand; if everything went to plan, she’d be ‘helping’ Bernie out of her casual wear soon enough.

“I’ll see you then,” she beamed, as Bernie ducked her head and shot out of the office.

 

\- - -

 

She’d been meaning to text Bernie to tell her to meet at the office, but her check-in rendered that part unnecessary. She quickly pulled her belongings together, donning a thin black coat and swinging her bag over her shoulder.

She scribbled a note on a bright green post-it, adding a single ‘S’ by way of signature, and fixing it to Bernie’s desk. Worried it might not be visible enough, that she might miss it, she slammed a handful more down around it and drew lazy arrows towards the centre.

She slipped out the door, then, leaving her date to find her.

 

\- - -

 

Bernie arrived back to the office at two minutes to seven, slightly out of breath and stomach turning with nerves. Opening the door to an empty office, she froze in horror, thinking Serena had fled.

The stash of sticky notes on her desk grabbed her attention within seconds. On reading the words, the hope and nerves returned with gusto. She hurried to cut the office lights, grabbing the notes from her desk as she swept out the door.

She shoved the arrows in her bag, rereading Serena’s note as she bounded for the stairwell, the swirling script swimming before her.

 

_Meet me under the sky, on the double._

_\- S._

 

She’d have to teach Serena a thing or two about British army slang.

She followed the orders quite literally, all the same, taking the stairs two at a time.

 

\- - -

 

Hearing the door creak open, Serena stopped pacing and faced the emergency exit.

“You’re late, Major,” she quipped, as a winded Bernie stepped out onto the roof at eight minutes past seven.

“My apologies, madam,” she offered, shrugging her shoulders and planting her hands into her jacket pockets, “I was given contradictory intel.”

At the sight of her — panting, red in the face and yet somehow still looking shy — Serena knew what they both needed. 

“Come here,” Serena reached out her arms, losing her own breath as Bernie stepped into her space, hands leaving pockets to thread around Serena’s waist. They held on tight, Bernie’s chin resting on Serena’s shoulder, and they waited as Bernie’s breathing and heart rate slowed.

Serena felt the tension of the day leave her, replaced by the warmth radiating from the woman in her arms. Berenice Wolfe. Her friend. Colleague. Something more.

The embrace calmed them both, knocking the day out of them and pulling them back together.

 

\- - -

 

They remained wrapped together, breathing each other in, until Serena looked up and murmured something about perfect timing. Bernie lifted her head and followed her gaze. Threads of wisping clouds slowly tracked across the sky; the sun had begun to set, dipping the horizon in deep pink. Serena had gotten remarkably lucky with the weather – a bit more overcast and this would have been a less-than-spectacular attempt at courtship.

Serena released her grip slightly and, turning to brush her lips on Bernie’s temple, she spoke in a whisper.

“Do you know,” she said, voice no louder than a breath, “how often I’ve dreamt about this?”

Bernie shivered, despite the heat lingering in the evening air.

“Sounds like I turned your world upside-down last week,” she said, smugness hitching her cheeks around her smirk.

“So that’s a no,” Serena grinned. Bernie’s face fell in bewilderment.

“What?” 

“You have no idea,” Serena whispered, tugging on the collar of Bernie’s jacket, “how often I’ve thought about this.”

“Thought about what?”

By way of explanation, she slipped her right thumb beneath the fabric, running it along Bernie’s collarbone, feeling her chest tremble beneath the touch. Lifting her gaze once more, she soaked in the sight of Bernie, eyelids pressed shut and her jaw slack. Her breathing was ragged once more.

“Open your eyes.”

Bernie blinked back to full consciousness, eyes finding Serena’s almost instantly.

“You’re taking me home.”

Bernie’s features softened, and Serena wondered if she might cry. Instead, she cleared her throat, evidently aiming for a little bravado as she spoke.

“Not dinner and a movie? I’m not that easy, whatever you’re thinking.” She laughed, her expression at odds with her words. Serena felt strangely as though she was being mentally undressed. She wondered if Bernie felt the same; if her own feelings, her intentions, were plastered across her face.

“Ah, and who said I wasn’t cooking for you?” She didn’t wait for any more of Bernie’s questions. She closed the minimal distance between them and grinned as she finally, finally kissed Berenice Wolfe back.

She couldn’t let that score go unsettled; she was hugely in favour of complete equality between them.

 

\- - -

 

Allowing herself to be led out into the falling night, Serena felt her pulse jump through her as they walked towards Bernie’s car. She ached to reach for Bernie’s hand, hold her close. She knew it wasn’t time, not yet. She knew, though, that it eventually would be, and her heart soared at the thought.

Serena Campbell, raging... something. Who knew? Ric Griffin would eat his scrub cap.

Somehow, and no thanks to her panicking or stalling, Serena was beginning to get the feeling that Berenice Wolfe was _hers_.

 

 


End file.
